A Half Decent Education
by TheGeekWithNoBrain
Summary: Sherlock/John.   John is a new student at Yard Academy. He has been given a scholarship at this top school and all he wants is a normal first year. But his new roommate, Sherlock seems to have other ideas... I will warn you now this is a slash fiction!
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One.**

John sat in the taxi with his case by his side. Hands in his lap he stared out of the window at the monster of a school coming into view. It towered over the grounds made of different buildings all in gray stone each surrounded by students going about their day. Large halls, science labs, huge brick walls containing corridors, class rooms and thousands of rich as hell child geniuses. John rang the bottom of his beige wool jumper in his fists trying to calm his nerves. It may have made him look more like a middle age man than a 17 year old but the old cable knit jumper was his favorite and he would not let the laws of fashion take it way from him! He knew there was nothing to be anxious about this was just like any other school they just had the highest standards in the country.

Yard Academy was the top school in the UK and maybe the whole of Europe with a guarantee of every student becoming highly paid and successful. But education had a price and rich families all over the world paid unimaginable amounts to have their child given the best tuition money could buy. The Watsons were amazed that their John had got a place all paid for. The school specialized in supplying the country with the best surgeons, politicians, scientists, doctors, detectives all jobs that were needed to improve and insure the safety of Great Britain. Aiming to be a doctor as well as being fit and agile enough to be sent to fight, John was just the sort of student the school was looking for. So here he was in the very north of Scotland getting ready to start his education and determine his future.

After the tour of the school John's mind was blown. He had seen things he only thought were in movies this school was amazing. With science labs, which seemed to have more equipment than NASA to sports fields with kids playing like pros. Even the corridors seemed like a museum with the walls lined with works of art that were impossible to find a flaw in. He could not help but walk along in a daze only taking in half of what he saw not being able to keep up with the head teacher Mr. Lestrade, a former head D.I in London. It then came to the part John was dreading. Meeting his new roommate, the person he would have to spend the rest of his time at school with. They could either be a blessing or a curse only time could tell. Mr. Lestade introduced him to the dorm adviser Mrs. Hudson. She was a small plump woman with a warm smile that had a relaxing affect on John. Wishing him well in his first year at Yard Academy the head left Mrs. Hudson to lead him to his room. Pulling his hefty case down the hall John listened to the cheerful women chat about the weather and what was for lunch. He smiled and nodded when the time was right but did not really take any of it in. He was going through the worse case scenarios of who his roommate could be; someone messy or too excitable who stayed up all night playing music for hours on end. John just wanted some one quite who would let him be so he could get a half decent education and not shame him self.

"Ah this is your room," Mrs. Hudson came to a stop at a door marked 221B, taking a ring of keys from her hip she opened the door, "and this is your roommate, Sherlock Holmes."

Sitting in a cloud of smoke sat a tall thin boy with a mop of curly black hair hanging over his eyes. A cigarette hung from his mouth and he held a violin delicately in his long slender fingers. The room was already covered in the content of the other boy's case, clothes slung across the beds and paper littering the floor. He took the cigarette from his mouth and puffed out more smoke into the room never taking his dark blue eyes off John. At being looked at so intensely John shifted uneasily from one foot to another.

"Oh Sherlock what a mess you have made." Mrs. Hudson sighed going across the room and pulling open a window "and what have I told you about smoking I'm guessing you have deactivated the smoke alarms again." Sherlock chuckled flicking the finished cigarette butt out of the window. He stood in front of John looking down into his face (being a good head higher than him) studying his every feature. Extending a hand to John he gave him a crocked smile like that of some one is planning something. John took the hand offered to him keeping a straight face.

"A pleasure to meet you-"

"John, John Watson."

Sherlock smiled a wicked smile. "Oh, this will be fun" he smirked and before John could ask what on earth he was on about the taller boy winked turning around and stretching his arms above his head. "He will do just fine. Now Mrs. Hudson you can go now I'm sure you have plenty of other things to do," he kept his back to the door staring out the window as if waiting. Sighing she shock her head and went to leave giving John a small smile as she shut the door. John ran a hand trough his sandy hair. This was not good. He was never going to have an easy year with Sherlock Holmes as a roommate. Spinning round and pointed a bony finger at John, Sherlock cracked a wide grin,

"Now Watson, let us begin."

**Author's Note-**

**This is my first Fan Fiction (I hope you can't tell by the number of spelling mistakes...) I hope you have enjoyed reading it and please let me know if I should continue or be hung for my terrible writing. I know this chapter is rather short but I'm hoping to make them longer and give it more of a plot as I go along. Also i set the rating rather high because I do not really know where this story is going. Better safe than sorry I say! So for now my dear reader good bye and wish me luck! **


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter 2.**

John sat in his first biology class trying to concentrate but Sherlock was making it impossible. The dark haired boy was flicking through the textbook between them, crossing things out and writing "WRONG" above it. On one page he just stopped, nose an inch away from the page, reading what was written. He let out a groan and ripped out the whole page, screwing it up in his long fingers.

"Sherlock stop that, I'm trying to read." John growled snatching the book from him.

It had only been a day and he was already annoyed with his roommate. Sleeping in the same room as him was almost impossible. The constant staring, it felt like he was a bloody test subject or some thing. John thought he could avoid him during the time outside his room but he was sadly proven wrong. Every lesson so far had been with Sherlock, it was driving him mad. Having every thing he wrote being read over his shoulder and sitting in awkward silences because the dark haired teen never said a word. He just watched him. John had noticed that he never met with anyone else, he just sat there looking bored as if he already knew every thing that any one was about to say just by looking at them.

So here he was again placed next to Sherlock fighting over a textbook.

"I am merely saving your education John. I will not have them teaching something that is so clearly inaccurate. The writer of that so called "book" is an idiot!" finishing his statement he chucked the ball of paper at the back of a boys head in front.

"Hey!" the boy slammed his hands down on the desk and span round glaring at him. The girl next to him turned around at the boy's reaction, wanting in on the action. He pointed a finger at Sherlock opening his mouth to say some thing.

"Shut up Anderson." Sherlock said now staring out the window.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Yes, but from my experience, I can tell that it would probably have been stupid."

John sighed looking down at the textbook trying to read what his roommate had kindly crossed out.

"Save it freak, we have all seen your little "I know what you're thinking, what you have done and where you have been trick" its old now, so just piss off!"

John looked up at this the girl in front of him, she was pretty he would give her that but the sneer on her face was making her a lot less attractive. He turned to Sherlock who just smirked still staring out the window.

"Your new right?"

He spun around to see that now the sneering girl was talking to him. He just nodded and stuck out his hand to the girl.

"My name is John nice to meet you."

She stared at his hand, a neatly plucked eyebrow raised.

"Sally Donavon," she leaned forward and pointed a slender finger at Sherlock "If I were you I would stay away from him. Not one person has stayed in the same room as him for more than a week. They all moved out saying he would stay up most of the night talking to him self or pacing. They say he's like a machine hardly ever leaves the room. Not to eat, not to meet other people, he just sits and smokes in his room alone. He's a right weirdo! If I were you I would leave while you still can. See you later John." with that she turned away the bell rang and she left linking arms with Anderson.

John stayed seated going through what she had said in his head. Sure Sherlock was a little weird and the staring was a little creepy. But he can't be that bad could he? Those must have been rumours but every rumour had to start from something. Getting up he put his things away and walked towards the door.

"Watson! What the hell have you done to this book?" The teacher was looking through the textbook Sherlock had edited. "You are a bright kid John, but that does not mean you can go around doing what you please. Detention next Tuesday, come here at the end of the day."

"But Sir, that wasn't me." He protested.

"That's what they all say. Good bye Watson." The teacher turned back to his desk dropping the crumpled book into the bin. John groaned storming out the class back to their room to find Sherlock. This was not how he planned to start the year.

John found him outside the door forehead pressed against the wood flicking the handle with a long finger. He spun round in hearing John behind him the same blank expression on his face.

"Key." he said holding out a hand expectantly.

"What? Oh, no I don't have one yet." John replied.

Sherlock groaned thumping his fist impatiently on the doorframe, head leaned back against the wall staring at the ceiling.

"Where's yours then?" John demanded, now fed up with all this.

"Inside." Sherlock sighed, not taking his eyes away from the white painted ceiling.

"Inside what?" he almost shouted he didn't know why this guy was getting to him so much.

Sherlock slowly lowered his eyes to look into John's, "I'm not standing out here for the thrill of it John. It's clear that I left my key in the room. Even a child could work that one out."

John snapped. He was normally very calm, not really one to raise his voice but he had been pushed resulting in him wanting to push back, hard. He stepped forward and stopped a foot away from Sherlock at his full height, pointing a finger at his chest. Sherlock stayed quite as if he was waiting to see his reaction.

"You dramatic prat! You have no idea how hard I worked to get here and then you, you go around like you own the place. You know that book you were "correcting" I got the blame for that. ME! The one that actually did the work ended up having to have a bloody detention for it. I can't get kicked out, Holmes. It's not like I can get Mummy and Daddy to buy my way back in! I have one shot at this and I'm not going to let you take that away from me!" John breathed out trying to calm himself down, running a hand through his hair taking a step back from the boy who had made him so angry. The taller boy looked down at him, a small smile playing at his lips.

"What do we have here then? Lovers spat?" A short boy not much older than the other boys was leaning against a wall down the hall, a cruel smile on his face, the sort that made John's skin crawl.

Lovers spat? How the hell did this look any thing like that! John was about to voice his opinion when Sherlock calmly spoke.

"Your skills of deduction are once again at fault Moriaty. This is my new roommate John Watson. Now you know would you kindly piss off?"

The boy across the hall glared at them but this quickly turned back to his cruel grin. "Oh, silly me what am I thinking? We all know that it is highly unlikely that we could find someone to love our little Sherlock, the poor little unloved child." Moriaty giggled at his come back, slowly walking towards them his fingers trailing along the wall. He stopped an inch away from Sherlock staring up into his eyes ignoring the glare they were giving him. "I will not let you have friends Holmes. I will not let you have anyone. You are like me; we are outcasts, we work alone. You can't have some one else not a companion not a friend, sidekick, pet, soul mate, I don't care. I'm alone so you are too. It has to be fair you can't break the rules. That is how this game works Holmes. Stop cheating!" he spat.

John was shocked he had never met any one like him. He was deranged. He almost felt sorry for his roommate. What this short kid had just said was plain mean. What the hell could he have done to get someone so angry, to get some one to say something like that? Not having any idea how Sherlock would react he waited watching the boy's every move. Then the seemingly cool, calm and collected Sherlock Holmes did something rather unexpected; he punched the short taunting boy right in the jaw. Staggering back a grin spread over Moriaty's face he spat the blood out of his mouth and quickly moved in on his opponent. And so the fight began.

**Authors Note-**

**Another chapter done. Yay! I hope there are not so many mistakes in this one but please let me know if there are so I can change them. I'm sorry to say that i might not be as quick at writing after the weekend because I am back at school but I will still try to publish what I have written as soon as I can (which should be at least once a week *fingers crossed!) So please let me know what you think and a giant thank you to every one who reviewed, favourited and alerted for this story it really does put a smile on my face. So till next time readers GOOD NIGHT! **

**Thank you Chloe who keeps me writing!  
****XXXXXXX **


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

John sat between Moriaty and Sherlock, in front of head teacher Lestrade's desk. It was just his luck to be dragged into this. By the time a teacher turned up, John had almost pulled them apart. Lestrade looked between the three boys and sighed. Sherlock had blood dripping from a split lip given to him by a sharp kick in the face and was currently nursing a bloody nose. John had come out of the fight with only an angry looking bruise to the right side of his face. While Moriaty had a hand over his eye where Sherlock had punched him and it was clear that in an hour or two he would be the proud owner of a rather tender black eye.

"Boys, this is the third fight this term. I don't know what it is between you two but we really need to sort it out and fast." The head turned to each boy, neither meeting his eye.

"And John, I thought you were a more sensible student. Really, Getting caught up in this sort of thing on your second day?"

John looked down at the floor, not wanting to see the disappointment that was so clear in the teacher's voice.

"I'm sorry to say I do not know how this fight was started so I will have to punish you all equally. Detention this weekend, I think a couple of hours cleaning out the locker room will teach you all a lesson."

With a groan the boys left the room.

Outside John put his head in his hands, not wanting to think about what his family would say to him when they found out. He was sure an angry phone call would soon be on its way. Sherlock stood by John not knowing what to do he felt terrible for getting John involved. Holding his hand in the air between them debating if he should pat him on the back or something or was that just dogs? Sherlock was never very good with people, far too many emotions each one so different and requiring so many different things in return. He settled for just pushing a bit of John's hair behind an ear. He had seen it in a movie once when some one looked up set. Wait, looking back that could have been between lovers. John looked up quickly at Sherlock for his strange action a look of shock on his face.

"What the hell..."

But Sherlock was already half way down the corridor hands in his pockets trying to recall the ending of a scene in a certain romantic movie he had seen on television a few months ago.

John lay down in bed and glanced at his clock. 2:38am glowed red. He groaned slamming his pillow over his ears. Sherlock was playing the violin again. But it was no use he could still hear him playing a tune full of a mix of notes clashing together in a clumsy harmony. At first John was mesmerized at Sherlock's skill with the instrument. Not that he would ever admit it. Any more praise and he was sure the dark haired youth's head would explode! But now he had had enough of the room's constant soundtrack and just wanted to sleep!

"Will you bloody shut up?" John yelled launching the pillow across the room at his roommate. But it was easily dodged as the tall boy simply stepped aside watching the pillow hit the wall behind him. With a scowl he turned to the boy in bed and dramatically pointed his bow at him.

"I shall not reduce myself to such a common task as sleeping just because of some tiresome routine. Any way what is the fun in that?" giving a quick smile he continued to play from where he left off. Dropping his head he gathered his bed sheets and pillow and headed for the room's bathroom, where he shut the door and set up his bed in the bathtub. Tucking him self under the blanket, he drifted off to a restless sleep dreading the morning with his detention in the stinking locker room.

Dragging him self out of the bath he stretched groaning at the pain in his lower back. He rubbed his eyes noticing his skinny roommate bent over the sink brushing his teeth with only a towel slung round his waist.

"Good morning John. Sleep well?" he smiled at him in the mirror toothpaste running down his chin.

"What do you think? My back is killing me." He sighed leaning back against the tiled wall running a hand through his hair.

Sherlock chuckled, turning round to face John leaning back on the sink stretching his back. "Now John will you please remove your self from the bathtub I need to wash, unless you want to join me?" Sherlock winked.

John was a little dazed at how bold his roommate was being this morning but quickly gathered up his blankets and headed out the room closing the door behind him. The sound of the shower over the bath was heard through the door as John tried to make his bed and clean up some of Sherlock's mess.

"Hey, don't use up all the hot water! I don't want a cold shower again!" John called to the next room.

"Sorry I can't hear you over all of this wonderful hot water."

He sighed at that hoping that it was just a joke but then again he had not yet heard Sherlock say one.

Getting off his knees, Watson smiled, it had taken three hours but he had finally finished. The floor of the locker room had never looked so clean. He had no idea how so much mud could be brought in on someone's shoes. It was as if someone had come in with a wheel barrow and just dumped piles of the stuff in here. Heading over to the showers, he went to check on how Sherlock was getting on with getting graffiti off the tiles. Moriaty had been a no show and nearly was Sherlock until John dragged him in here saying he would not be doing another detention for him. Sighing at the sight in front of him, he wondered why he ever trusted Sherlock with such a simple task of cleaning a wall. The tall thin teen stood there with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, aiming a showerhead at a patch of wall covered in running black ink. He was soaking wet, his dark shirt clinging to his slim shoulders.

"John, I don't know how these people got into the school? I mean look at this one "Shercock Holmes total wanker 4everz!" I mean seriously the pun on the name was bad enough but "4everz" what the bloody hell hit the boy over the head to make him lose so may brain cells. And don't get me started on the number of explication marks."

Grabbing a sponge John set to scrubbing the wall. Listening to the water hitting the tiles, he wondered whom he should ask to switch rooms. If he got another detention his mother would freak, the phone call last night had been bad enough. It was simple. He would swap rooms, get away from Sherlock and start his year again as the hard working unnoticed John who passed his exams and stayed out of trouble. A cold spray of water hit the back of his head making him tense with surprise. Whipping round he faced a grinning Sherlock.

"What the hell was that for?" John screamed chucking the sponge at him.

"Boredom and I do not get along too well, John" Sherlock smiled spinning the showerhead in his hands.

"That's it! I'm out of here! I don't care if they give me another bloody detention; I'm not staying a second longer with you!" Kicking over the bucket full of dirty water John stormed out of the locker room pulling his soaking wet jumper off over his head. Sherlock watched the water flow down the drain and smiled. Placing his hands together under his chin he turned to leave.

"He should be gone in no time." Sherlock's smile fell from his face as he took a cigarette from his pocket spinning it in his fingers. "He was right, I can't have friends."

John sat a bench outside still soaked to his skin. He watched a game of football down the hill. He would join the team after all this, like a normal kid. With no Sherlock, this school would be great. Leaning his head back he looked up into the clear blue sky. It may have been sunny but being November it was bloody freezing. Rubbing his hand along his arms, he headed back inside. Ringing his jumper in his hands he hoped it would not shrink, he was rather fond of this one. Going through the door he held it up to the light, checking it was still all right. Out of nowhere some thing collided with him chucking him against the wall. A stack of paper fell to the floor, covering the ground with white sheets covered in neat curly writing. Looking up his eyes met with another's.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going." A girl with mousy brown hair was kneeling beside him scooping up the paper. Leaping into action John helped her pick up the sheets.

"Don't worry your self about it. It was all my fault!"

Getting up the girl pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled sweetly at him as he passed her his stack of paper.

"Thank you. My name is Sarah. It's nice to meet some one kind enough to help out for once."

John smiled back and offered her his hand. "You're welcome. My name is John Watson."

Juggling the papers in her arms she took his hand. "We are in Biology together; you sit next to Sherlock Holmes."

John's face fell at his name but at looking back at Sarah his smile returned. "I don't suppose you know where I could go to change dorm room would you?"

**Author's note-**

**Sorry this took a while I had a little homework to attend to. Just saying thanks again to all the wonderful people who read and review and that I love you all very much (but not in a creepy way there is no reason to call the police...). I am sorry to say there may be a bit of a longer gap between chapters now because I am back to school Monday. :( But please don't let that put you off! **

**So till next time my dear readers, Good Night! **


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four.

"What do you mean there are no more rooms?" John protested standing in front of Mrs. Hudson's desk, "There must be some where I can go. I can't stay with him any longer!" he begged.

"I'm sorry John but unless you can find someone to swap rooms with you, I can't move you" The small woman gave him a smile full of pity while she stirred her cup of tea. John fell back in his chair, knowing it was hopeless; no one in their right mind would want to move in with Sherlock. John hung his head running a hand over his face. He was exhausted he hadn't had a decent sleep since he got here a week ago. Mrs. Hudson sighed.

"Again, I am ever so sorry John, I know what he's like but he is a good boy, odd yes, but good."

He sighed and left the room without another word. Sarah was waiting for him outside, leaning up against the wall.

"No good?" she asked. John groaned falling against the wall next to her.

She smiled sweetly, turning to face him. "Well when he gets too much for you just come and find me and we can hang out." with a small wave she started to walk away. "See you in Biology, John." she called out as she walked down the corridor, shuffling the pile of paper in her hands. John smiled; he was looking forward to Biology. But this did not change the fact that Sherlock was still an ever-present annoyance in his life. This thought quickly wiped the smile from Johns face.

Sherlock sat in John and his dorm room, drumming his fingers on the arm of his red leather chair. He let out a sigh, he liked John and it was a shame that he had to go. Sherlock found it comforting having someone with half a brain sharing a room with him, just thinking of having a moron like Anderson in a room with him made him shudder. John had backbone, he always had a come back and that was an admirable quality to Sherlock, it kept him on his toes. But he had to go, they all had to. Sherlock and other people did not get on, that was a fact and his past proved this. The incident in the showers this morning should have insured that John would do a runner. He had lasted longer than the others but a person can only take so much.

As if right on cue John came bursting into the room, his still damp jumper slung over his arm. At spotting Sherlock he gave a powerful glare and slung him self on his bed facing the wall, trying to ignore his room mate.

"Are you not leaving?" Sherlock was surprised that John was not packing. There was no answer. "John?" he questioned, but still no answer. The tall teen walked up to the boy on the bed and gave him a prod; he was far too impatient to put up with this and wanted to know why his roommate was not escaping. John pulled a pillow over his head. A muffled "Piss off!" was heard through the cushion. Sherlock scowled, not wanting to be kept waiting. With a huff he climbed onto John's bed, kneeling next to him, he tried to yank the pillow off his face so he could get an explanation for his lack of leaving Sherlock alone. Prizing the pillow from John's grasp a triumphant smile spread over Sherlock's face, but this soon fell when he saw the face of the boy beneath him. His eyes were red and tears ran down his cheeks, making the pillow now in his roommate's hand damp. This stunned the young Holmes for a moment, seeing the always-strong John Watson, shattered beneath him. Sherlock reached a hand out to John, not sure what to do. But only had it swatted away.

"Piss off!" John screamed; well tried to, it came out as more of a croak. Sherlock jumped back off his roommate and just stared, not knowing what to do. No one had ever cried before… Still sitting on the end of John's bed, the tall teen brought his long legs up to his chest.

"I'm sorry…" he murmured gripping the material of his trousers with his fingers.

"I can't move rooms." John whispered trying it whip his tears away.

Sherlock looked up, jumping into action. "What! Who told you that?" He hopped to his feet running his hands through his dark curls, pacing back and forth, eyes tightly shut.

"Mrs. Hudson, just now, she told me there were no more rooms when I asked to move."

At hearing this Sherlock left the room immediately slamming the door behind him, an odd expression on his face. If John had not known better he would have thought his roommate looked panicked.

John sat alone on his bed, his chin resting on his knees. It had been a few hours and his roommate had not yet returned. He had finished with his crying, it was not like him to cry. But after an hour or two of thinking John had made some decisions. Firstly he would try to stay as far away from Sherlock and Moriaty. He would join the football team; which was something he had been planning to do from the start. I mean what better way to make some friends than running around a muddy field in the cold chasing a ball? And finally he would get to know Sarah. John was most looking forward to the last one, he needed to been seen as a normal person at this school, to go unnoticed and get good grades, and John could bet his right arm that Sarah would be a better companion than Sherlock.

John smiled a smile that lit up his whole face. Jogging over to Sarah he pulled off the blue football jumper. It had been a week since he had seen Sherlock and life could not be better for John. He had got onto the team and was doing well; he had aced his biology test and he and Sarah were like old friends.

"Hi, you didn't have to wait." John smiled stretching his arms across his chest.

"Don't worry I had no where special to go." She slung her bag over her shoulder and joined John walking back to the dorm rooms. John liked talking to Sarah, she was pretty, smart and most importantly normal. With Sarah, John could relax; he had no reason to think. Not like with Sherlock, with him he was always on high alert, always fearing what else his roommate would spring on him. At John's door they stopped like they had every day that week and said their goodbyes and that they would see each other in the morning. She would walk away with a sweet smile; John would sigh a contented sigh and wish she did not have to go, just like a normal teenager at a normal school. Pushing open the door he pulled his shirt off over his head and slung it on the bed. Not looking up he pulled the belt off from his waist and headed for the bathroom with his towel for a nice warm shower.

"Good afternoon John."

"Aghh!" John shouted spinning around to face the intruder, holding his towel out at arms length in an attempt to defend him.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and smirked through his cloud of cigarette smoke.

"What the hell are you doing here?" John sighed running a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. The stupid twat nearly gave him a heart attack!

"This is my room John. I come here to sleep." Sherlock replied, his attention returning to the people out side his window.

John ran his hand over his face, "Where have you been? I thought you had left or some thing."

"I had matters to attend to." The smoking teen stated. Not looking away from a couple of teachers drinking coffee below the window; he let another puff of smoke through his lips, floating across the room making John choke. John shock his head knowing he would not get any more out of him. Locking the door behind him he headed over to the shower. Only to find it full of muddy clothes and what looked like meat.

"Sherlock! Why is all of this shit in the bathroom?" John shouted through the door wrapping a towel around his waist before heading into the bedroom.

"As I said," Sherlock smiled flicking his cigarette butt across the room. "I had matters to attend to."

"Meat?" Sarah giggled looking up from the English paper she was writing. "I heard he was a freak but who the hell puts that in the shower?"

John smiled; with Sherlock back he was glad he had someone normal to talk to. Putting down her pen she closed her book and looked up at John. "All done!" Gathering their stuff they headed out the school's giant library. Passing old books, John listened to Sarah talk about a silly rumour going round school while he acted like it was interesting. His eyes wondered the shelves looking for authors he recognized skipping from book to book lazily. He stopped; he could hear a familiar voice on the other side of the bookshelf. Leaning closer to the row of hardback encyclopaedias he tried to listen in to the conversation.

"What do you mean no? That's breaking the rules." It was Moriaty.

Sarah stopped up ahead and put her hands on her hips waiting. "John, what are you doing?" she called.

He ran over a finger to his lips and dragged her back over to the bookcase. Leaning in to listen.

"I told you before there is nowhere for him to go, he can't move." That was Sherlock; John had no doubt about it. But what were they talking about? Leading Sarah along the row of books, John tried to get a better view. Peeping through the shelves he saw Sherlock with his back to the wall looking down at Moriaty, with a finger pointed at his chest.

"Well you better do some thing about it." The smaller boy sneered jabbing his finger into Sherlock. "You know the rules. You have one week." He said and with a cruel smile he tuned to leave, knocking books from the shelves as he went. Sherlock sighed, letting his head fall back to hit the wall behind him.

John felt small a tug on his arm and turned to Sarah.

"Come on John, let's go."

He gave her a small smile and followed her out of the library. He did not listen to a word she said, he was only thinking of what Moriaty had said. One week? What was that supposed to mean? And why was the always calm and unmoved Sherlock Holmes always affected by him? Moriaty seemed to be the only one to ever get a reaction from the mysterious teen.

John rushed out the room his hair still wet from his morning shower. He had woken up late after a long night of football training and was shattered. Locking the empty room behind him he shoved the pile of books into his bag while trying to straighten out his shirt. Running through the corridors, he headed for his biology classroom. Luckily the teacher was also running late so John managed to slip into his seat undetected. Sarah shook her head, as she saw him take his seat over the top of the book she was reading. John gave her a nervous smile back before turning to Sherlock who was flicking paper into Sally's hair in front of them.

"You could have woken me up." John groaned trying to catch his breath from his run to class.

"You looked tired; I didn't want to wake you." Sherlock replied simply, chucking another bit of paper at Sally.

John frowned, by saying that Sherlock almost sounded like he cared. Getting out his books and laying them on the table, John yawned. He really did need some more sleep. The lesson went by slowly, with John trying to listen and take notes while the teacher went on about the functions of the kidney. At the end of the lesson when it was time to head out, the teacher dropped a bombshell for John.

"Okay class, get out your homework," she called over the hustle of the class getting ready to leave, "This is an important one which is going to your grade at the end of the year, so you better have done it."

John hung his head. He knew he had forgotten something! Putting his books away in his bag he tried to come up with an excuse while the rest of the class poured out the room. Heading to the teachers desk at the front of the room he planned to tell the truth; though he really didn't need another detention his Mum would kill him!

"Err Miss…" John mumbled looking down at his shoes. "About the homework…" Looking up he saw the teachers face, an eyebrow raised it was clear she knew he had forgotten.

"John!" Some one called from behind him. "You forgot this."

Turning round he faced Sherlock a bit of paper in his hand covered in writing in hand writing very similar to his. Only he had not written it.

"Oh…" John looked down at the paper given to him. It was the homework. Handing it over to the teacher she gave him a smile.

"And there I thought you were coming to tell me you had forgotten." She sighed shaking her head. "Now off you go." She said waving her hand at the door. Heading out the door, John caught Sherlock by the arm.

"You wrote that didn't you?" the shorter boy questioned stopping his roommate in the corridor.

"Yes." Sherlock replied plainly, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it in his mouth.

John looked at him confused. "Why?" he coughed after getting a lung full of Sherlock's smoke.

He shrugged taking another puff; "I guess you could call it pay back for the meat in the bathroom." And without another word he turned and walked to his next lesson ignoring everyone around him as he finished his cigarette and flicked the butt at Anderson with a chuckle.

John stood alone staring after the slim teen. Shaking his head he walked off to find Sarah. Maybe his roommate was not too bad after all…

**Author's Note-**

**I'm so sorry this is so late out! I had a mountain of school work! [Insert better excuse] Well here it is chapter four. I hope you like it! I am planning for there to be about 15 chapters in the end and i promise they will come out faster than this one did... So thanks for every one who has waited and once again a super sorry! So for now my dears GOOD NIGHT! **


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five.

The thick black smoke could be seen from all over the school. Like an out of control animal, the fire ate its way through York academy's third math's block. John stood in the crowd, a safe distance away, watching the flames fighting against the water being washed over it in an attempt to be stopped. The building groaned again, becoming weak under its own weight.

"How do you think it started?" Sarah gasped as part of the roof caved in sending more smoke into the evening sky.

"Probably just an accident," John shrugged. He was glad this school was so health and safety obsessed, the fire had caught quickly but luckily everyone got out unharmed.

"A little wrong there,] John, this was deliberately started." John tensed in surprise at hearing the voice behind him. Turning round to face his roommate who was staring into the flames, the hazy warm light eliminating his pale face, he raised an eyebrow.

"How can you tell?" John questioned.

Sherlock smirked. "Look at where the fire started." He pointed towards the east end of the building that was nearly completely destroyed. "It has been empty for months now because of delayed construction work. No one has been there it would be the perfect place for some one to start a fire with out anyone seeing a thing."

"What!" Sarah demanded. "This is not some mystery story. It was probably started by sunlight through a bit of glass or some thing."

Sherlock chuckled, "John I thought you would be smarter than to surround your self with people with so little brains," John was about to argue but was stopped by a long finger pointed between his eyes. "Think John," his roommate sighed tapping his forehead, "The sun sets in the west, well north west at this time of year if you want to be technical. The fire was in the east and at the time of day the fire was started, the sun is not particularly strong any way, there is no way it could have started it."

John gaped for a moment but quickly shut his mouth so his cocky roommate would not see he was impressed. Sarah just glared.

"That was just an example." She said with a huff. "There are other ways fires can be started with out someone hell bent for destruction! This is a high school not a mystery drama."

Sherlock's cheek twitched in irritation. But he quickly composed himself; he knew for experience that it is never a good idea to show emotions. "Well as you so rightly stated, there are other means for a fire to be started, but with no electricity in that end of the building and the minimal amount of stupid, careless people passing through a fire of this scale being, started by chance is highly unlikely, don't you think Miss Sarah?" Sherlock gave her a smug smile.

The defeated girl just looked to John for help.

But John was still stunned. He knew his roommate was smart (I mean he got top the class with out even trying) but how the hell had he worked all that out so fast? The building had been on fire for less than half an hour!

"That was amazing!" John could not help but smile up at his roommate shaking his head. This was clearly not the response Sarah was looking for from John and with a huff she turned on her heel and walked away. John watched her quickly disappear into the crowed.

John's smile fell. "Sarah, wait up!" John called over the hordes of people. Seeing that she was not coming back John sighed, with a half smile he waved a goodbye to his roommate and followed her into the crowed.

Sherlock stood alone in the cold evening air watching the space where John once stood. A small smile played on his lips. No one had called him amazing before. Putting his hands in his dark blue coat pockets he turned away from the burning building as it gave up its fight with the fire and came crashing down spewing ash into the cloudless sky. As his classmates gaped at the flames Sherlock looked up at the moon just appearing. The smile still on his face he ignored mindless chatters about the fire and focused on his thoughts; of this new mystery, of possible suspects but most of all his thoughts were of John and his kind words.

An hour or two later John came into his dorm room beaming. Sherlock looked up from the laptop in front of him, to look at his roommate who was currently doing a splendid impression of the Cheshire cat.

"You seem cheerful." Sherlock sighed tapping his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair waiting for the computer on his lap to catch up with his rapid Internet searches.

Pulling off his shoes and collapsing on his bed John continued to grin. "I am. I have a date with Sarah" he stated.

"Oh?" Sherlock sat up, giving up on the now frozen computer. "I thought you fell out."

John's smile became a little weaker at this being mentioned. "Well yes, we did. But that's all sorted now."

"Hmm." Sherlock's attention went back to the web page, which was now fully loaded.

"Wait, is that my laptop?" John scowled across the room.

"Yes." The teen answered simply.

"What's wrong with yours?"

"Nothing, this one was closer."

John got up shaking his head. "Can you clean up a little while I'm out? This place is a mess." John asked, shifting through clothes on the floor, looking for something to wear.

"Okay." Sherlock murmured, not looking up from the screen.

John knew that his roommate had not listened to a thing he had just said. Walking across the room he plugged the laptop on Sherlock's lap into the power so it could charge. He had been woken countless times, by someone looking for the charger when they had let the battery drain completely. Taking no notice of his roommate's actions, Sherlock continued to look at passed cases of fires. John left the room with a sigh; he could not help but worry about Sherlock when he got into things like this.

John sat across from Sarah, watching her as she sipped at her glass of coke. They had come to a restaurant not far from the school. It was a small place but because of its convenience it was popular with students. It was the classic Italian pizza place, with red and white checked table clothes and a warm atmosphere the whole place buzzed with life.

"This is nice," Said John smiling, "To get away from things." He leaned forward his elbows resting on the table.

"By things do you mean Sherlock?" Sarah giggled, "I don't know how you do it John."

"Don't say that. Sherlock's fine, you just need to get to know him."

"I think I will take your word for it," She fiddled with her fork, pushing her food around her plate, "Lets talk about something else," She looked up a new smile on her face, "I heard Sally and Anderson have-"

Johns phone beeped interrupting Sarah. With out thinking he whipped out his mobile and read the message that had just flashed onto the screen.

_In need of some help. Come as soon as possible. SH_

John raised an eyebrow. Was this Sherlock? How the hell did he get his number? Ignoring his dates annoyed gaze he texted back.

_Sherlock is this you? How did you get my number? John._

A reply came quickly keeping John's attention to the phone.

_Yes. The number was easy. Now this is important. SH _

Looking up from his phone John bit his bottom lip. "I'm sorry I have to go. I think something's wrong with Sherlock" Chucking some money on the table he pulled on his coat and headed out to call a taxi back to school. "This was fun, we should do it again sometime, See you later." Giving a small wave he headed out into street. Sarah sat alone a little stunned. A little hurt Sarah called for the bill and paid with the money her "date" had left her. Pulling on her coat and doing it up to her chin she stepped out into the cold night air, alone.

Fumbling with his key at the lock, John tried to get into his room as fast as possible. The taxi ride home had given him the time to come up with many reasons that Sherlock might need his help. Each one involving the room being destroyed, some terrible accident or the most dramatic, Sherlock blowing up the room with one of his "experiments" resulting in death and destruction. Almost tumbling through the door John raced into the room to inspect the damage.

Sherlock looked up. He was in the same place that John had left him, a pile of paper on his lap and a cigarette hanging from his lip.

"Took your time," Sherlock stated, standing up starching his arms above his head, letting the paper in his lap fall to the floor.

"What? I thought you were in trouble. I was on the other side of bloody town!"

"Well you should have said; that's where we are going now," Pulling his navy coat on over his long frame, "I need to talk to someone."

"Then why do you need me?" John protested.

His roommate sighed, "So many questions. They don't trust me, so when I say I need to talk to someone, I mean you do." With a smile he passed John and headed out the door. "Come on John," Sherlock called from down the corridor, "Don't want to be late now, do we?"

With a groan John did his coat back up and jogged to catch up with his demanding roommate.

"That was pointless," John complained, "Why did you have me spend an hour talking to a tramp?" He was fed up, it was nearly 2 am and he had football practice in the morning.

"Being homeless has its advantages." Sherlock stated simply. Before his irritated roommate could tell him he was wrong he continued. "Being on the streets you see more. The police may over look them but they are the perfect witnesses."

John was surprised at this. At first look Sherlock seemed like a bit of a snob, well he was really but it seemed out of character for him not to look down on people just because of where they lived. The shorter teen smiled slightly, his roommate really was full of surprises. Walking up the gravel road up to the school, they became aware of what sounded like a siren in the distance. Stopping to listen, Sherlock held up his hand for John to do the same. After a moment concentrating on the sound, the tall teen set off up towards the school running. Struggling to catch up with his surprisingly fast companion, John called after him trying to get him to slow down.

That was when he saw it. Just like earlier this evening the sky was full of black smoke. The fire raged through another building and just like the first all people could do was watch as the flames took the school block and the fire won.

**Author's Note-**

**Thanks again for reading! I hope you liked it. Another huge thanks to everyone who writes such lovely reviews! I love you all lots and lots and lots! Please let me know what you think, I love hearing how you think it is going. Hopefully chapters will be coming out quicker after a week or two because i have the Easter break and next to no social life so I will have plenty of time for this! ^_^ Hugs and creepy kisses to you all. **

**Love Hannah  
****xxxx**

**Oh and another thing... I would like to say thanks to the wonderful Chloe who is forced to go through all of my terrible grammar! You think it's bad now you should see it before Chloe gets to it! My spelling will some day rule the world! **


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter 6.

Sherlock flung the bathroom door open with a huge smile on his face. Smoke bellowed out the door behind him, spilling out into the bedroom.

"Did it work?" John asked putting down his book. Sherlock had been in there for hours "experimenting" on something in the sink.

"Smell this!" the tall teen beamed, shoving a beaker under John's nose.

With a nervous smile, John leaned forward and inhaled some of the grey smoke wafting out the beaker. "What the bloody hell is that!" John choked, trying to get the foul taste from his lungs. His eyes ran as the acidic tang refused to exit his throat.

Sherlock chuckled, thumping John on the back as he continued to cough. "I said sniff it, not replace all of the air in your lungs with it." Striding across their room, he opened the window, letting the cold winter morning's air rush in and take the foul smoke away with it. "That's it John," Sherlock grinned, "That's what started the fire. Just splash that around a little and the smallest spark will light it up."

"Great, that's a lead right? Like a clue." John smiled. "One step closer to the answer!"

He would not deny it, he loved the thrill of searching through evidence and sneaking into the taped off area where the ashen remains of the buildings stood. It was like a mystery story and seeing Sherlock so determined to find the culprit was inspiring.

Sherlock nodded, a distant smile on his face. Bring his hands together under his chin he closed his eyes, a look of deep concentration on his face. "I'm going back to the crime scene." He stated his eyes still closed.

"I'll come too." John answered reaching for his coat.

"Don't you have another date with Sarah?"

"Oh yeah," the teen sighed. "I better have a shower now then. I can't be late or she will go mad."

"I would leave the bathroom for a day or two," Sherlock mumbled, his eyes snapping open, "That smoke may take a while to clear…" Face now blank Sherlock pulled on his coat and headed out the room. He paused, his fingers running along the painted wood of the doorframe. "I may be late tonight. Don't worry if I don't come back." There was a strange distant tone in his voice making his roommate a little anxious.

John laughed uneasily, "Of course I will worry if you don't come back. You're my friend, that's what friends do right?"

The tall boy looked up at John, his piercing blue eyes meeting his new friend's. "Thank you John. I don't know why you are so kind to me…" with a small wave goodbye, Sherlock turned on his heel and walked from the room, his long coat flapping behind him.

Sarah sat alone in the bench where she should be meeting John. He was late and seeing that he had left her last week to go home on her own after their last date, she was not happy. She had liked John from the moment she had met him. He was not an arrogant arsehole like so many at school. He was hard working and always seemed to care but maybe cared a little too much. In all the time she had been at school with Sherlock, no one had made any effort to get close to him. Even from a young age he gave off this weird vibe that said he wanted to be alone. Apart from maybe Moriaty, there was no one Sarah would really call Sherlock's friend and by saying Moriarty was friendly with Sherlock was pushing it if she looked at it.

Looking at her watch she sighed, shaking her head. He was nearly forty-five minutes late now, he better have a good reason Sarah thought as she got up to have a look around. Shielding her eyes from the sun she looked towards the school building to see the door thrown open. A red-faced John ran towards her his hair slightly wet and his shirt collar sticking out at an odd angle. Coming to a stop in front of her, the out of breathe teen bent over his hands on his knees panting.

"I'm so sorry! Had shower trouble." He huffed.

Sarah raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest. "Shower Trouble?"

"Sherlock, he was doing something with chemicals in the bathroom again." John grinned straitening up.

She tensed at hearing the name. So it was his fault, again! "Well I hope it was worth it." Sarah scowled picking up her bag and walking towards the library. John followed behind an awkward smile on his face.

"Well you know him. Once he gets into something like this nothing can stop him. But you should see him, it's amazing he can just look at a person an give you their life story." He chuckled.

"I would not call that amazing, more creepy if you ask Me."

"No, he's not that bad. I mean once you get past the first impression he can be great. We should get together some time. I'm sure you could be friends if you gave him a chance."

"Well maybe I don't want to be his friend John! Maybe I want to have a day with my boyfriend without him calling you over to talk to a homeless guy or hang out on a street corner. I mean we are dating, right? You spend more time with Sherlock than you do with me now. I don't know if you can remember but you were the one who wanted to get away from him!" People started to look at them as Sarah slowly started to raise her voice, stopping to look at John face on.

"But that was before," John said quietly feeling nervous with an audience. "He's a nice guy, a real genius." He put a hand on her arm trying to calm her, only to have it shrugged off.

"Here we go again; you are sticking up for him. You said you hated this guy," She snapped angrily, "I'm fed up with this. First you turn up late and then you keep going on about the "all mighty" Sherlock Bloody Holmes! Maybe you should just date him; you seem to like him more!" She turned her back on John pushing a piece of fallen hair behind her ear.

"Sarah, I-" John started.

"No, sorry John I don't want to hear it," She mumbled not looking back at him. "This is not going to work. See you in class." Slinging her bag back onto her shoulder and walked away. She sniffed and wiped a few tears away with the back of her hand, trying to stop the stream of water flowing down her cheeks and tried to forget about John.

John sighed walking up the corridor back to his room. Fiddling with the hem of his woolly jumper like he always did when he was thinking, he sighed. He had liked Sarah, she was great to be with when John was looking for something normal but he supposed she deserved more than that. A policeman walked past holding a beaker and a showerhead in a plastic bag as he headed out the building, talking into his radio. Straining his neck to see where the officer was heading until he turned the corner, with a shrug he continued back to his dorm room. Taking his key from his pocket he wondered what the police would want with a showerhead.

Approaching his room he noticed a small crowed of people gathered outside. Pushing through them to get to the door he stopped at seeing it tapped off with police tape and his room full of people sorting through his and Sherlock's things.

"What the hell!" John stammered under his breath ducking under the tape into his room. Spotting Lestrade in the bathroom, he walked up to him seeking an explanation. "Sir, what's going on?" he asked.

Looking up, the head had a stern expression on his face. "John can we have a word outside?", coming out the dorm room he shooed the group of students away, "Sherlock has been taken in for questioning about the fires." Lestrade stated getting right to the point.

"Wh- What?" John stammered.

"Earlier today he was found by the crime scene and in inspecting your room many chemicals like the ones found by the fire brigade are currently in the shower... He is now being contained and questioned and for the time being you will be moved to a separate room. I'm sorry you are being caught up in this John. I understand you wanted to move rooms and I do not want you to feel nervous about your education or your time at Yard academy being affected by this, I know it's not at all you fault." With a small smile the teacher turned back to the room before John could speak.

"Not having such a good day are we John?" Spinning round John faced a sneering Moriarty. He giggled slightly; leaning closer to John he ran a hand down John's arm. "First you get dumped then you have your room raided by the fuzz! And the poor darling Sherlock is dragged off to be questioned." He clapped his hands and spun on the spot a wide grin on his face. "I mean talk about bad timing on slim's behalf. Being at the crime scene right when the police were answering a call… You could say it was fate." Leaning up against the wall his smile widened as John clenched his fists in irritation.

"It was you," John snapped pointing a finger at Moriarty. "You set him up!"

Moriarty cackled madly, "It's rude to point Johnny boy." Spinning round again he started to walk away from John whistling a cheerful tune. "But I suppose that's what you get for cheating." He called behind him. Leaving John enraged and desperately thinking of a way to get back Sherlock.

**I am so sorry this has taken so long again! I'm on my easter break now so i should have another chapter up soon, fingers crossed! Thank you again for the wonderful reviews. I'm happy to answer any questions you may have about the story and any suggestions would be great too. So from a girl who has way too much art homework and science revision goodnight and happy reading!**


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven.

John stared at the dark ceiling, not being able to sleep. Anderson's snores were like a drill, digging into John's head, making his fingers twitch. As he turned over, his camp bed creaked. He had been put in a room with Anderson and a snooty kid called Quinton while his and Sherlock's room was searched. He had tried to tell them that Sherlock was innocent when they questioned him, but by finding the chemicals and with Sherlock's reputation they would not listen. Anderson made a choking noise then continued to snore. John screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself to try and ignore it. At least Sherlock's method of keeping John awake every night was slightly musical. Sitting up, he looked over at Anderson, lying on his stomach, mouth wide open a slight trail of drool running down his chin. With another snort from the sleeping boy, John considered taking his pillow and smothering him. At least then he had a chance of a few hours sleep.

It was colder outside than John thought it would be. He pulled the sleeves of his old woolly jumper over his hands to try and warm them up a little. After another hour of listening to Anderson sleep, he had pulled a jumper on over his pyjamas and escaped to walk around school. He had only passed a few people on his walk, all of which were drunk out of their minds, after spending their Friday night out on the town. John tried to avoid these few people after one nearly vomited on his slippers. The school was different in the dark. Most places were. The corridors seemed more peaceful as he walked towards the library. He had been around the school at night plenty of times with Sherlock after sneaking out to the town to talk to people about the fires but when he was alone and the excitement was missing, everything seemed different. The library was empty, lit only by the pale moonlight streaming through the skylight. He took a seat at a table over by the window with a view across the school grounds. The spots where the fires had been were still out of bounds to the students and you could just see the police tape flapping in the wind. John drummed his fingers on the window frame. This had been where Sherlock would stand, looking over the school, watching people walk past and being able to guess what they had for breakfast by the position of their jaw or when they last read a book by their left thumb. John still found it amazing, found him amazing. Even though he hardly spoke he knew so much. John leaned his head on the cool windowpane. Eyes drooping slightly he watched a few wispy clouds slide over the bright moon, hovering in the night sky. With a sigh, he let his eyes fall closed.

Sherlock looked up at the moon out of his room. Well it was not really _his_ room, just a room he had been put in when they took him to the station. It was painted all gray: the door, the walls, the floor and the bars on the tiny, square window. He stood up from the bed, hands clasped in his hair, eyes clamped shut. He had not smoked for nearly twelve hours and it was starting to get to him. He couldn't think straight and he disliked having a weakness. Pacing up and down the room his thoughts turned to John. He didn't want him to get evolved. John should have left, left like everyone else had. Sherlock was sure he would have moved if a room came along but after the few weeks they had spent together things had changed. They had conversations now, about trivial things, all meaning very little but at the same time being comforting. John never called him a freak like every one else did. He said his little observations were amazing, where others had said it was creepy. He smiled at the memory, of John and his knitted jumpers; the way his eyebrows creased together when he did homework and the bright smile he only ever gave Sherlock. Leaning back against the window frame, face pressed against an iron bar he smiled slightly. It appeared to be that he was getting another weakness. But he did not seem to mind this one.

John was not sure when he fell asleep but when he woke the sun was just poking its head above the trees, at the end of the football pitch. Half of his face had gone numb from resting on the windowpane. He groaned a little, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Nice Nap, Johnny?"

The tired teen jolted up right at the voice, all sleep leaving him. Moriarty stood there leaning against a bookshelf, a seemingly innocent smile on his face. "What are you doing here?" John sneered.

"Ooooh, you are a touchy one in the morning. How does Sherlock deal with waking up next to Mr. Grumpy?" Moriarty giggled. "So how many sheep do you get through to satisfy the wool fetish? Or is Sherlock the one with the love for jumpers? The things we do for a shag!"

"What the bloody hell are you on about?" A faint blush covered John's cheeks. Shoving his way past Moriarty, he headed back to the bedroom.

"Oh, we are angry. I like that. It's almost like you care." The shorter boy followed behind at almost a skip. John continued to scowl saying nothing. Moriarty grinned. "So you do care. That's cute. But I'm afraid it's not going to do anything. Our lanky friend is stuck in a very dark place, John. I made sure of that."

John stopped, turning to face the gloating teen. "What do you mean, "Made sure of that"? What do you have to do with all this?" John demanded.

"Nothing, nothing. I just made sure Holmes got what he deserved," He smiled, turning to walk away, "Better get back to bed, John. Though I'm sure you won't have been missed."

**Author's Note-**

**I am so sorry this is so late! I have a load of exams at the moment had i have been trying to revise. I know this is a short chapter but the next one should (fingers crossed) be out sooner. Please don't lose interest in this, i put a lot of effort in it (probably more effort than my revision!). Thanks again for all the lovely comments and for everyone who favourites the story. Another huge thank you to my lovely Chloe, without her constant pestering this would come out even slower! So to you my lovely readers GOOD NIGHT! I will see you soon, if you do not fall victim to the raptor that is... **


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight.

John sat in the dining hall, drumming his fingers across the table. He knew Moriarty was behind all this. The fires, Sherlock being set up, everything. But he needed to get evidence. Like Sherlock always said, "Never say anything unless you have proof it's true. You don't want to look like an idiot." John smiled sadly, Sherlock never seemed like someone to care what others thought but he always liked to keep up good reputation. Looking up from the table he saw Sarah across the room. He felt a little guilty that he had not tried to patch things up with her since their little fight. But with everything going on with Sherlock, he had somehow let it slip his mind. She looked up, making eye contact with John. He smiled but he knew it did not look genuine. She saw it as well and sighed, turning back to her friends. John shook his head slightly before getting up to leave.

On his way back to Anderson's room, he stopped off at his. The police tape was still in place but otherwise it was empty. Quickly checking that the corridor was empty he ducked under the yellow ribbon into his room. It was pretty much the same but it was clear that things had been moved around. Sherlock's mess still lay everywhere. The police had taken most of the suspicious things like the meat and Sherlock's chemistry set, but a lot was still there. John walked over to the desk, picking up a large stack of newspaper cuttings and pages covered in his roommate's twisted handwriting. He sat down on the end of a bed sorting through the paper. News clippings had things crossed out on them; notes had been scrawled by the side of articles each one saying almost the same thing: 'Would not do that', 'Far to sloppy' or 'Not his style'. John read over the last one again. It was talking about the fires being mindless arson. 'Not his style?' John tried to think of whom Sherlock could have been thinking of. Flipping through bits of paper, he found some notes on the back of a paper napkin. It was a schedule. He knew it was not Sherlock's; he had not done half of these things. Sherlock must have been following someone. Then it all clicked into place. Sherlock had known who it was from the start. He was just looking for proof!

"Stubborn Git." John mumbled folding the napkin up and tucking it in his jeans pocket. He did not know for sure whom Sherlock suspected but he had a good idea. Moriarty.

Listening against the door, he made sure no one was outside before leaving. The corridors were quiet; most people were still asleep or eating in the dining hall. Taking out the napkin again he studied the times looking for where Moriarty might be. At Anderson's door stood Sarah, leaning up against the wall. When she saw John she smiled slightly and got up, her hand gripped onto her arm nervously.

"Hey. I heard about Sherlock," She murmured quietly.

"Yeah," John muttered, "But it's all fake, it wasn't him. He was set up!"

"I believe you," She answered quietly, "Everyone keeps saying he's a psychopath or something but as you said, these people don't know him. I'm sorry John that I never gave him a chance but it's hard to get close to someone like him. What you did was brave really, you sacrificed a lot to side with him." She blushed a little not looking up from the ground. "We can still be friends right?"

"Sure, I mean I do like you." John answered; he was not really expecting this.

"So see you around I guess." Sarah smiled again, looking up to face John, "But please be careful not to get too involved in this." With that she walked away.

Moriarty was exactly where Sherlock's notes said he would be. John sat on a bench across the field from where Moriarty sat reading. The napkin was folded neatly in his right hand. Every now and then he ran his thumb along the folded edge. He had stalked Moriarty all day and now as the sun was setting, the October evening was getting a little chilly. His eyes drifted across the field to a game of football. He watched until a goal was scored and the whistle sounded for the end of the game. He looked back to where Moriarty had been sitting but he had gone. Quickly getting up he searched the area for any sign of him. People were leaving the match and walking away from the locker rooms, chatting about the game. Everyone was heading back to the dorms for dinner. But someone was walking in the other direction, into the sports block. John took a chance; with a jog he reached the door he had seen the person enter. At first glance he could see no one inside, only the piles of sports equipment. Curiously, he edged his way inside. It was dark as he stumbled down the long storage room, careful not to trip on a discarded hockey stick. From by the door he heard something fall off a shelf.

"Hello?" he called, feeling a little foolish. Turning back towards the door he saw something move in the shadows, shifting slightly. Squinting he tried to make out what was there. "Anybody there?" He cried his voice cracking slightly.

"No, But there's someone here." A voice laughed.

John quickly turned to see whom, but then the bat was swung towards him, harshly coming in contact with the side of his skull. His vision went back, with his head spinning he felt himself fall to the ground. He could just make out footsteps approaching him as he lost consciousness.

* * *

Sherlock sat in the taxi on his way back to school. He was not expecting them to keep him for so long. They had questioned him for hours but he had just told the truth. From every book or crime fighting show on TV he knew that lying did nothing but get you in more trouble when it comes to being questioned. He watched as the sun set, staining the sky a deep orange. He was worried about John more than any thing. He knew from when he first set eyes on him that he was not one to sit around. And after having him accompany him for the past couple of weeks he knew that he strived for adventure. John would not be waiting for Sherlock to return, he would be acting. This made Sherlock nervous, which was unusual for him but he knew Moriarty. He was cruel and changeable, getting bored even faster than Sherlock, treating life as a game, which he made his ambition to win. And Sherlock had a terrible feeling something unpleasant was on its way.

* * *

John felt like the side of his face was on fire. He screwed up his face trying to block out some of the pain. He could feel something sticky on his cheek pressed up against the tiled floor and from the smell he could tell it was blood; his own blood. A tight rope was biting into the skin of his wrists, locking him to the cool metal of a pipe running along the wall. He opened his eyes slightly, it was dim but he could just make out that he was in the locker room. The same one he had cleaned with Sherlock weeks ago. He tried to sit up but pain shot up his spine to his head. He moaned, biting his lower lip trying to forget the pain.

"So we're up! I was worried that I had killed you." Moriarty kneeled down next to John. Taking John's face in his hand he forced him to look him in the face. "We don't want that now do we? Well not yet any way." He laughed. Dropping his chin so it hit the ground hard. John winched as the deep cut on his temple came in contact with the floor.

"Ooops. Sorry about all this. It's just that our friend Sherlock broke the rules. He made a friend. You!" Moriarty kicked his stomach. "We were friends once, Sherlock and I. We would compete all the time. One day we bet that we could find a friend before the other. We neither did, no one wants to be friends with the weird kids," He slumped on the ground next to John, running his hand along John's arm. "So we made a rule. We would never make another friend. We would both stay alone, like we should be. But dear Sherlock broke that rule. He met you. So now we have to get rid of you. It's only fair, it's nothing against you. In the wrong place at the wrong time, so they say." Jumping up grinning Moriarty walked back into the dark. John tried to shout out but only a croak came out. He took a deep breath. Fumes hit his nose making him choke. They stung his throat. He had smelt it before; it was the chemical Sherlock had showed him. Panic rushed through him he knew what was happening before he saw the smoke creep into the room or the angry orange light dance along the tiled walls of the locker room. Moriarty had set another fire; but this time someone was stuck inside.

* * *

**Author's Note-**

**Two chapters in one weekend! I'm one a role. This is rather unusual for me so don't get used to it! A huge thank you again to wonderful reviews. I have two huge exams next week, which are really freaking me out and next weekend I'm camping (I rally hope it won't decide to rain and keep up with the british stereotype!) But when I'm back i have a whole week off to write some more! Please review, I love to hear what you think (good and bad) as my lovely Granddad said to me "There is always room for improvement!". I will answer any questions you may have so don't feel scared to ask! Many did ask when they will be getting together and the answer is Chapter 9! So not long now to wait. So for now my dear readers, have a lovely evening and GOOD NIGHT!**

**Lots of love and kisses,  
****Miss Hannah Emily White! **


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine.

There was no one in their room when Sherlock got back to school. He had pulled down the police tape and started to shift through his things, trying to work out what the police still had. Out the window, he saw the end of a football game. The players rushed around the pitch whooping and people stood by the edge of the field, cheering them on; he tried to spot John amongst them. From what he remembered John was fond of the sport. Sherlock skimmed the crowed looking for John's sandy hair or maybe a beige jumper. Spotting him sitting on a bench across the field, he could not help but smile. John sat alone wearing his cable knit wool jumper, his hair was slightly ruffled by the wind and his cheeks flushed in the cold. Pulling on his coat he headed outside to let him know he was back. It was nice to know that someone could be worried about him and cared what happened to him. And then Sherlock came to realize that for the first time in years he had found someone to care for too.

Outside, John was nowhere to be found. By the time Sherlock had reached the bench most people had gone inside and the field was empty. He craned his neck to look back towards the dorms. He would have passed him if he were going back to their room.

"Sherlock?"

He turned to see Sarah sheepishly staring at him.

"I see John was right, you were innocent."

"Indeed. Have you seen John anywhere?" Sherlock asked, swiftly changing the subject.

"He was out here a moment ago. I came over to ask why he has been acting so odd but when I got here he had gone…" She scratched the back of her head, looking round trying to spot him.

"What do you mean by 'odd'?"

"Well, all day he has been walking around the school, and then he would just sit down and stare off into space." Sarah shrugged.

"Hmm," by the sound of it, John had been following someone. Had he found something? Sherlock groaned. If he was following whom he thought he was, he was in trouble. "Where did-" he started but stopped. He took a large lungful of air. It was faint but he could smell something, something chemical.

"Sherlock?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

But with that Sherlock set off with a run, heading towards the locker room.

"Sherlock!" she called, yet he did not turn round. She could only watch as he slipped into the building. A large cloud of smoke bellowed out the now open door. She gasped slightly and quickly whipped out her phone, fingers shaking as she called 999. Putting the phone to her ear, she muttered as she waited for the number to dial.

"Hello how can I help you?"

"Fire Brigade," She almost shouted down the phone. "There has been another fire. There is someone inside!"

John screwed his eyes shut. The smoke stung them so he couldn't see a foot in front of him. He pulled at the rope tied at his wrists again but they didn't budge and he was still weak after being knocked out. He tried to open his eyes again, only to shut them quickly when he saw that the fire was quickly advancing. Flames curled round the doorframe, orange light reflecting off the tiles. John let out a harsh cough, which shook his whole frame. His lungs begged for clean air, free from the bitter smoke. He sat with his back against the wall, his head tilted back. The heat was extreme making him feel like he was roasting. He chuckled darkly; this really wasn't a good day to wear such a thick jumper.

"I really don't see what could be funny," John's eyes snapped open. Next to him was Sherlock, fighting the ropes that held him. The taller teen grinned when knot came lose. "How do you get into such situations?" He pulled John to his feet.

"I never planned all this; I wanted a peaceful school life."

"Well you won't if you don't shut up! Come on, I don't like the sound of the roof."

It was true, as the boys headed out the showers the timbers above them moaned. They kept to the middle of the corridor, heading to the door. Sherlock lead the way, finding a clear path through the blaze. John kept close, not wanting to be separated. There was a loud crash from the top floor. Sherlock grabbed John as he saw the ceiling splinter. He threw him in front of himself, just before wood came crashing down from above. John yelled out in surprise as a beam fell towards Sherlock, knocking him off his feet. He took his hand, watching Sherlock wince in pain. A large cut ran down his leg, blood swelling from the wound. John quickly pulled the wood away, with a newfound strength, he brought him upright and started to half lift, half drag him towards the door and out of danger. He could now feel the evening wind on his face, giving him hope, the cold willing him onwards. The smoke started to clear as they reached the door. Using his last bit of strength, he pulled them both onto the grass, away from the inferno that was now blazing behind them. John collapsed on the ground next to him. He could tell even in the poor light that Sherlock was losing a lot of blood. Taking his hand, he gave it a light squeeze.

"We made it, Sherlock." John croaked his throat tight from the lack of air. He felt the hand tighten in his; looking up to Sherlock's face he saw the pain in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, John. This is my entire fault," John shook his head in protest. "If I didn't-" His voice was now a whisper. His roommate's eyes fell shut, his breathing slowing.

"No, no Sherlock." John croaked. He could feel the grasp on his hand weaken. His eyesight blurred slightly, his head pounding. Not letting go of Sherlock's hand, he took a handful of his hair, wincing at the pain. His vision was clouded with a fog. John felt himself grow weaker. He could just make out the sound of sirens in the distance, speeding to their aid. Closing his eyes he let himself fall unconscious again. He willed them to come faster, wanting nothing more than help for Sherlock. The thought of losing him was heart breaking.

**Author's Note-**

**I'm sorry for the delay, art homework snuck up on me! I hope you liked it, even though they did not get together like is said (there was a small change of plan...) But i promise that next chapter they will! I have no idea when the next chapter will come out but i have some exams coming up so it may be a while... Thank you for your wonderful reviews and thanks for everyone who added this to their favourites! I love you all very very much! Thanks again to the wonderful Chloe, who went through my terrible grammar. It is unreadable with out her! So to my wonderful readers, so long and GOOD NIGHT!**


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter ten.

John woke up to the feel of cool and crisp sheets, tightly tucked around him. There was the unmistakable smell of disinfectant and the far off beep of a heart monitor. He knew before he opened his eyes, that he must be in a hospital. The florescent light above the bed stung his eyes as he opened them and tried to sit up. A pale blue curtain was pulled closed around his bed, shielding him from the rest of the patients. Pulling the sheets loose around his legs, he moaned as a sharp pain ran through his chest. Sliding the blue hospital robe down his arm, he looked down and saw a bandage tightly wrapped around his shoulder. Running his hand gently over the wound, it stung slightly. He guessed it was a burn. He had not noticed it until now, at the time he was so concerned about getting Sherlock out he did not spare himself a thought. There was no way they could have got away with out a few cuts and bruises. His head now clearing, his thoughts instantly turned back to Sherlock. He had got off much worse than John. His mind raced as he started to panic. There was so much blood. Sherlock could hardly speak when they laid on the grass. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he tried to stand but his weight seemed too heavy to hold. He pulled at the curtain by the side of the bed, trying to stay upright. Alarms started sounding, a repetitive high-pitched squeak. Looking down John noticed he had pulled a few wires from his chest.

"What are we doing up." A nurse called, heaving the curtain open and directing John back to his bed.

"Sherlock," he wheezed, his throat still dry from the smoke. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"Hush now dear," she cooed, "He is just next door."

"But there was so much blood." He could feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

"He's in good hands here. He will be fine."

"But the-"

"I assure you that he is quite alright,"

John's gaze snapped to the person who had just entered the ward.

"And from what I heard, it is all thanks to you," a faint smile flickered over the man's lips, "But I'm sure that if it wasn't for your carelessness, he wouldn't even be in this mess." He nodded at the nurse and she hurried out the room. He passed his umbrella from hand to hand, not taking his eyes off John.

"I'm sorry but who are you?" He was not sure if he liked this guy, the way he stared, unblinkingly was slightly off putting and it put John on edge.

"Mycroft Holmes. I'm Sherlock's brother," He chuckled at John's surprised reaction. "Hmm, I had a feeling he hadn't told you. He isn't too keen on me for some reason or another." He frowned a little at his last statement, seeming to be lost in thought.

"No, Sherlock hasn't really told me much about himself."

"He does like to be secretive, my brother…"

"You can say that again." He gave the tall man a weak smile. Looking closely Mycroft did look a little like his sibling. They shared the same high cheekbones and held themselves in a similar upright posture. But he was much older, maybe nine or ten years.

"There is an eleven year age gap." Mycroft stated. Not moving from where he stood in the door way.

John gaped slightly. That was far too creepy.

"It did surprise me that Mummy had another. From the day that he was born, I was always worried about him. But I suppose worry is inescapable when it comes to those that we care for. I'm sure you know the feeling." He smirked.

John said nothing, a slight frown creasing his face. It was true, he had come to terms with it now and he really did care for Sherlock. He was always there in the back of his mind. He knew that if he was in danger he would not hesitate to risk everything to save him and that being away from him, even for a few days, soon made him long to be near him again.

"Yeah, he's a good friend." He smiled.

"Friend, now that is defiantly what he needs." Mycroft paused a second, until deciding to continue. "I have never really been able to be there for Sherlock. I was away at school for most of his childhood and by the time he had started school I was moving out. It was in his second year of school that he met Moriarty. I did not like him; he was not good for Sherlock. But he was the only friend he had. He convinced my brother that he did not need friends, that the world would always see him as an oddity, an outsider. So he started to act like one, he distanced himself from others. I was working at this point and by the time I noticed what had happened it was too late, Moriarty had turned Sherlock on the others and in turn they had turned on him in return," Mycroft sighed, looking John straight in the eyes. "But you're different. You are good for him, John. The Sherlock I knew would never do what he did for you, for anyone. I know this may be a burden to put on your shoulders but I would like you to stay with him."

"I want to stay with him." John blurted out, quickly followed by a bright blush. "He's not like anyone I have ever met. He… he's… amazing." Not being able to find another word to describe him, he kept his head down, not being able to meet Mycroft's harsh stare.

"Indeed he is," Checking his watch he sighed. "I have work to be done. I think this conversation would be better if it stayed between us. I hope to see you again soon, Mr. Watson." Striding out the ward, John listened to his umbrella tap on the tiled floor as he made his exit, thinking over Mycroft's words.

It took a lot of persuading from John but he finally got the nurses to let him in Sherlock's room. It was a privately paid room, set up by Mycroft, more dimly lit with only a window looking onto the foggy Scottish highlands.

"You have ten minuets," the nurse stated. John opened his mouth to protest, "You are not meant to be in here at all." She sighed, closing the door behind her as she left the room.

John turned to face the sleeping Sherlock; he was pale, with a dark bruise across his cheek. His leg was un-tucked from the blanket, it wrapped tightly in a clean white bandage. He walked, with a slight limp, over to his sleeping friend. He took a seat next to his bed watching the rise and fall of his chest. He wore a light blue hospital robe much like the one John had been given but it was too big over his slim frame. His collarbone was exposed from where it had slipped off his shoulder. John bit down on his bottom lip slightly at the sight. He looked so peaceful asleep. With no quick-witted calculations running through his head, he seemed finally at rest. John pushed a lose strand of Sherlock's dark hair behind his cheek, leaving his hand resting there. Sherlock stirred slightly at the contact until he leaned into the touch, a slight smile on his face.

"John," he sighed.

The sandy haired teen flushed, quickly removing his hand. "Hello." He said lamely.

Sherlock chuckled; slowly he opened his eyes to meet John's. He ran a hand through his mused curls, pulling them away from his face. He tried to sit up but winced when he moved his leg. John rushed to his aid, propping him up with pillows and loosening off the sheets before retuning back to his seat. They both stayed silent.

"I thought I had lost you," John murmured breaking the tension.

"Well, if it were me, we would not be in this mess..." He replied a distant, sad smile on his face.

"That's what your brother said about me." John looked up to meet Sherlock's rather surprised gaze.

"Mycroft was here? Why?"

"Well he is your brother."

"Yes but he doesn't like me…" Sherlock sighed.

John laughed, "For someone who can tell what their favorite food is by the parting in your hair, you can be a little dense. Your brother cares for you. He said so himself."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "What else has he said to you?"

John blushed, remembering their conversation, "Nothing," John murmured, "Just stuff. About us..."

"Us?"

"Just that he wants us to stay friends," John could feel his ears heating up; he could only guess how red he must be.

"Hmmm, I agree," John looked up to face his roommate. "We should stay friends. It is not often that I come to an agreement with Mycroft. And for your information, someone's haircut would be no help at all when it comes to their culinary taste."

John grinned. Looking down his eyes stopped on Sherlock's wounded leg. A stab of guilt ran through him. "Why did you risk running into a burning building for me." John could not take his eyes off the bandage. "If it wasn't for me this would have never happened, you wouldn't be here." He sniffed. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry, this is-" he was stopped by a gentle hand resting on his arm.

"Don't even start to think this is your fault. John, I don't know what I would do with out you. It's been so long since anyone has shown me any kindness." Sherlock ran his hand up John's arm, fingers knitting into his hair.

"It was horrible without you," John spoke softly leaning into his roommates touch. "You know they put me in a room with Anderson!" he joked slightly.

Sherlock sat up, pulling John towards him, till their faces were almost touching.

"You wouldn't be leaving me for that idiot would you?" his breathe tickling John's cheek.

"N-no," he stuttered in reply, "I don't think I could."

Sherlock chuckled, staring into his deep brown eyes.

John felt his heart flutter as the lean boy edged forward, a slight smirk on his face.

"But I don't think I will allow you to leave now, Mr. Watson," He whispered before he closed the short gap between their lips. John's eyes slid closed, as he let Sherlock claim his mouth. He curled his hands around Sherlock's waist, leaning down towards him, the kiss getting more heated with every passing moment. He felt hands travel down his spine, clinging onto his hospital robe.

"John, times up, out you- Oh my!" the nurse stood in the door, looking a little flustered.

John quickly pulled away from Sherlock, "Ermm, yeah, I, err." He stammered, making a swift exit. At the door he turned to a rather rumpled Sherlock, "See you in a bit then." He murmured. Sherlock laughed, his head falling back onto his pillow.

**Author's Note-**

**Wow, it feels great to not have any more exams! (well till next year...). I hope you like this chapter, it was horrible to write but I am quite pleased with it! Now that I don't have any more revision i can get back to updating faster. Yay, More work... I would like to know what you think of Mycroft. Lots of people portray him as the bad guy but i like the idea that he cares, in his own twisted way. I will repeat what I say in every chapter "Thanks for the reviews" and all that lark! And an apology for my "appalling" grammar/spelling that this was filled with before I made the wonderful Chloe go through it all! So for now my dear reader... GOODNIGHT!**

**P.s I just looked over this, there is soooo much bloody talking! Lol. **


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven.

"No mum, I'm fine." John almost whined.

"_John, you were in a FIRE_!" his mother's sharp voice called, ringing down the phone. "_I'm coming up there to get you. I will not have you at that school, I don't care how famous it is._"

"It's not the schools fault, they caught the guy who set the fires. Sherlock said the health and safety is so strong now you can't get a match within a mile of the place." At the mention of his name, Sherlock ran a hand through John's hair. He smiled at the contact. They both sat in Sherlock's bed at the hospital, John resting against the other's shoulder.

"_Who on earth is this Sherlock you keep going on about_?" his mum questioned. "_Is that the same boy you wrote about in your letters_? _I thought you said he was… odd_."

John sighed; I slight blush creeping over his face. "He's a… friend, he saved my life! Mum, don't bother coming all the way here. I'm going to be staying at Sherlock's for a few weeks while the school is sorting stuff out. Its near London, I can come and see you then."

John's mum sighed down the phone, "_Well I'm not happy, you better come within the next week. And bring this Sherlock with you. I will make sure Harriet is there for dinner_."

"Okay, I will ring you again when I get to Sherlock's. Bye" He quickly hung up the phone before his mum had another chance to come up with a reason to turn up to the hospital. Sherlock kissed the back of his head. John blushed, he was still not used to all this contact.

"I think it's about time we got out of here. My brother has sent over the car," Sherlock scowled, "I really don't see why we couldn't get a taxi."

The boy in his lap chuckled, pulling himself up off the bed, "He's just worrying about you. If I were your brother, I would have gone mad with nerves, thinking about what you are up to all the time." He passed Sherlock the crutch the hospital had prescribed him.

"Well I'm pleased we are not siblings or something like this would be frowned upon." He said with a smirk, leaning forward, meeting John's lips with a smile.

* * *

The car pulled up to Sherlock's home. It was a tall, red brick town house, on the outskirts of the city. A constant flow of cars passed by and the pavement was full of pedestrians rushing to and fro. John smiled at the sight of the bustling area where Sherlock had grown up. He could imagine him as a child, spending his day watching people pass him by, as he guessed where they were from and where they were heading. It all seemed so active, unlike John's laid back family house, where the main source of excitement was the village football game. Standing outside the door, while Sherlock fished his key out of his pocket, he suddenly felt rather venerable. Walking into the home of a family who had such high social standing. He had heard rumors from around the school that Sherlock's parents traveled the world, sorting international issues and both held major roles in the British government. John started to fidget slightly at the prospect of meeting such important people.

"Sherlock, are you sure it's okay for me to be here? I mean, I don't live to far away, I could just go home."

Sherlock finally took hold of his key, leaning heavily on his crutch. "John, I-" he started.

"I mean your parents are probably worried and they would want to see you. I would just get in the way." John rambled on.

The tall teen turned quickly, taking his companions shoulders in his hands, staring into John's eyes, which were set on the floor.

"There is no reason to be nervous, John. It is very unlikely that my parents would be home and highly doubt they would be concerned about me."

John smiled slightly. "What is this theory you have that no one cares?"

Sherlock looked a little surprised at the words said, "No one has really ever had time for me, and I have always been a hassle to the people around me."

John frowned, "You must never think that. I would never see you as a hassle and if you wish I will give every second of my time to you. I care for you Sherlock." He blushed, "God knows when I first met you I was ready to slam your head in a door but now I see you for who you really are, not the act you put on to push people away, now I can't help but want to be with you every moment of every day. I will not have you bury yourself in this self pity." And with that, still a little flushed; he pulled Sherlock in for a kiss. John let his eyes flutter closed, feeling the other boy smiling into the kiss.

"Ah Sherlock, you're home." John leapt away from Sherlock with a yelp. A tall, spindly woman stood in the doorway. She wore a dark lacy shawl over her shoulders covering a floral dress. The woman's red hair was tied in a ruff bun behind her head; a few strands hanging lose around her face. "And I see you have brought a friend." She smirked, the expression seemed slightly familiar to John.

"Mummy, this is John." Sherlock announced, with a small smile curling onto his face.

'_Mummy_?' he gaped slightly at the woman. He was not expecting this, John imagined Sherlock's mother to be a clean-cut businesswoman, with a ruthless eye and stern presence. The lady who stood before him looked like she spent her day pottering away in the garden or making something organic in the kitchen.

"Ah, well you seem like a nice boy for my Sherlock," She smiled, inspecting John standing awkwardly on the doorstep. "Modest, trim and very protective of my son, from what Mycroft has told me. As first impressions go, I think we will get along swimmingly." She beamed. Stepping to one side with a dramatic sweep of her arm, she gestured for them to enter.

* * *

John sat on a plush sofa next to Sherlock. They were in the lounge; Sherlock's mother sitting in an arm chair opposite. The walls were covered in shelves, each one haphazardly stuffed with a variety of books. Some looked ancient, their leather covers cracking and coated in a thick layer of dust but in the collection there were also tatty paper backs and some that looked like they were fresh of the print. Mrs. Holmes took a sip of tea from the dainty cup, the collection on rings on her fingers knocking against the china.

"So, how did you to meet?" She questioned.

Sherlock grounded, knowing that his mother was taking this opportunity to interview the boy next to him. "John is my dorm mate," he drawled wanting to get away from the interrogation. "He comes from Great Barford, where he lives with his mother and sister, Harriet. He is the same age as me and in most of my classes. He is gifted in biology and aims to be a doctor but he is also skilled in sports. He is on the football team and seems to enjoy school. I think for now, Mummy that is all you need to know. Come on John, let's go up stairs." Before John could even open his mouth, Sherlock pulled him by the arm out of the room and up to his room where he quickly shut the door and leant back against it panting slightly.

"Sherlock that was rude." John frowned.

"Well if I had not intervened I feel that conversation could have continued for hours." He hissed in pain as he tried to straighten up, a shot of pain running through his leg as he put weight on it.

The sandy haired teen sighed propping his friend up and helping him towards the bed. "She is only worried about you Sherlock," hushed John, propping the other boy up with the pillows on his bed.

"Why is every one suddenly so concerned about me?" said boy sneered

"Because you have an obsession of getting into trouble," He smiled "Now get some rest. The doctors said you need two weeks at home. You lost a lot of blood and that wound has to have time to heal." Pulling off Sherlock's shoes and pulling the blanket up to his waist John could not help but feel an urge to protect him. "Now I need to phone my mum, she will go nuts if I leave it any longer." He chuckled as Sherlock pouted slightly.

"I know you aim to be a doctor John but please do not use this opportunity to prefect your bedside manner on me."

John blushed, leaning down to kiss the other boy on the forehead. "I aim to treat you better than any patient."

"A bias Doctor? I fear you will not get very far." He winked as, John pulled out his phone, a playful scowl aimed at Sherlock.

* * *

"You really need to eat more," Mrs. Holmes scolded, shoveling more food onto her son's plate. "You won't get better if you don't have any energy."

"All right, Mummy." the boy sighed.

John, Sherlock and his mother sat around the small table in the kitchen. It was warm and homely but still quite large, with a huge stove that heated the room. Sherlock's mother had cooked a large pot stew, which sat in the center of the table, full of vegetables and large chunks of meat. It was heavenly to John after only eating school meals and hospital dinners for the past few months.

"And please stop smoking in the bathroom, don't argue Sherlock. I found your cigarette butts in the soap dish."

John chuckled at the mothers concern; it was so strange seeing the young Holmes being told off. Looking up at his mother John saw that she too was smiling, you could tell from a mile off that the woman really did love her son and could easily see past his faults to the little boy she had raised.

"So what will you two be up to this week?" she questioned leaning back in her chair.

"Tomorrow we will be visiting John's family. They too are _concerned_ about him." Sherlock drawled carefully cutting up a piece of meat.

"Ah lovely, meeting the family. You must tell me how your mother reacted to discovering you have a boyfriend John. I, personally, am relived it is not that ratty Moriarty boy that my son has chosen to be with." She chuckled.

"B-b-boyfriend?" John stuttered.

"Well you were kissing him on my doorstep, I only presumed you two would be dating." She raised an eyebrow looking between the boys.

Well she had a point there; John did not make a habit of kissing people on a whim. Sherlock was not a girl, so of course he would have to be his boyfriend. He blushed, he had never really thought about it, it had just happened. Bloody hell, did that mean he was gay? He was so caught up in the moment he had not had time to think about putting a label on it all. He tried to imagine the reaction of his friends and family when he told them that he was dating a boy, but he struggled.

"Well," John started, still flushed. "I think she may be a little surprised."

**Authors Note-**

**I would like to say sorry for leaving this so long! I know it's been like a month... But I was stuck! I wrote a ruff plan when I started the story but that has gone to ruin, so now I am just making it up as I go along (I hope it doesn't show...). Please let me know what you think about Sherlock's Mum in this. I didn't want to go with what others may first think of (even though that was a bit of a risk!). I'm off on holiday this week (fingers crossed it wont rain) so the update wont be soon but I promise I will not leave it as long has I did this time! My dear Chloe may kill me if I do! Thanks again for all your lovely comments. I love you all! **

**So for now my darlings GOOD NIGHT!**


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

John paced around Sherlock's bedroom, while the other boy sat on the double bed up against one wall. He had a book in his lap but was much more interested in his now 'boyfriend'. He smirked at the term. It was this little phrase that had John so flustered in the first place.

"What am I going to say? "Hey Mum, this is my _Boyfriend, _Sherlock". She's going to go nuts! She wanted grandchildren. Bloody grandchildren!"

"I'm sure she will be just as understanding as Mummy."

"You don't know my mum. She's rather traditional…" John sighed, he was still not certain but he stopped his pacing when he saw Sherlock give a yawn. The doctors had told him to rest and here was John keeping him up with his worrying. "Well, we better get to bed if we want to get to mine by lunch time. Where should I sleep?"

Sherlock pattered the space next to him on the bed.

John face turned a bight shade of red. "W-what there? What are you suggesting? Sherlock, we only kissed yesterday. I like you but I don't think this is something that we should rush!"

The young Holmes chuckled at his boyfriend's flustered expression. "I only meant for you to sleep here. I promise I won't do a thing. This bed is plenty big enough. And what if I need help in the middle of the night? You wouldn't want me to open the wound would you?"

"That's a terrible excuse."

"Yes, but now you couldn't sleep in another room if you wanted to. Right this moment you are coming up with dozens of over-the-top and impossible scenarios in your mind where I do myself a mischief. You would be sick with worry."

"You have that right! No one gets in trouble like you. Not many people can see it, but you're an idiot. A reckless idiot." John could not help but smile fondly at the boy propped up in bed.

"Come on then, in you get." Sherlock smirked as he pulled the shirt off over his head, making John blush even further. He flicked the piece of clothing across the room, still grinning. "May need a little help at this bit." He said innocently, working on the belt. He hissed in pain when he attempted to slide the fabric over the bandaged wound. This reaction quickly brought John to his side. Gently lifting him from the bed and pulling the black denim jeans away from the injured skin. When Sherlock was lying down under the blankets, John striped down to his boxers, the colour ever present on his cheeks. He quickly slipped in next to the watching boy, feeling vulnerable in the chill of the room.

"What if your mum sees us?" John whispered, facing his boyfriend, who was still smiling softly but his eyes were drooping slightly. "I know she's fine with… us. But I think even your mother would have something to say about this…"

"You should have seen Mycroft in his teens." Sherlock yawned again; he had been tired ever since he had left the Hospitals back in Scotland. By reading the side effects on the box of his painkillers he wasn't happy to find drowsiness meaning he would need more sleep. He wrapped his arms around John, liking the warm feeling of some one else in his bed. At first the smaller teen flinch at the contact but he soon settled into it resting his head on the others chest.

"I don't think I would have liked to meet a teenage Mycroft." John smiled.

Sherlock chuckled, feeling sleep taking him. Maybe with someone by his side sleep was not too bad.

In Sherlock's opinion Great Barford was rather dull. The "main" road was near silent and since they had arrived only a handful of cars and a tractor had passed them. John led him towards a quaint looking bakery, its window filled with cream cakes and loathes of bread. Across the road stood a traditional pub, getting ready to open for the afternoon. The man across the road, watering his garden, waved cheerfully over to the boys. An old woman on a bus stop asked if they were having a nice day as they passed.

"John, do you know every one in the bloody village? Why is everyone talking to us?" He gazed suspiciously at a man across the road walking a dog.

"Hey, nice weather we're having." He called across the road.

John snorted, "They're just being friendly. Unlike in London, here it is acceptable to talk to people!"

Getting closer to the bakery Sherlock read the sign above. "Watson's Barford Bakers" It read in curly letters, the sign looked aged, but that seemed to add to its charm. They paused outside, Sherlock leaning on his crutch taking in the shops appearance. It was quite a small outlet, the width of the little detached house. The shop's front had a late 30's look and the wooden window frames looked original and well cared for over the years. The bread and pastries in the window were nothing fancy but they all looked appetizing.

"Well, here goes nothing." John let out a steady breath and pushed the door open.

A bell on the wall rang, sounding their arrival. Behind counter was a short plump woman, wearing a crisp white apron, her hair tied up in a bun behind her head. At seeing John her face lit up.

"John!" She called, rushing forward and throwing her arms around the boy. "I was so worried." She then turned to Sherlock tightly wrapping her arms around him in another backbreaking hug. "And you must be Sherlock." She smiled fondly. "I'm John's mother, but you can call me Heather." He could not help but notice she had a dusting of flour in her hair. "Now come on boys, into the kitchen with you. I won't have you standing here cluttering up the shop." She flipped the sign on the door to 'closed' and pulled the boys behind the counter. The grin did not leave her face as she led then through the house. "Harry," She called up the stairs. "John's here come down and say hello."

Mrs. Watson headed down a slim corridor the walls lined with photographs of the family on holiday, a young John in school uniform grinning with huge gaps between his teeth and a sandy haired girl Sherlock presumed was John's sister. He caught a glimpse of a man standing proudly in military attire with his arm around Mrs. Watson one hand on a large belly. He paused to take a closer look.

John smiled sadly behind him, wrapping his arms around him self.

"Dad went out just after Harry and I was born," He sighed. "I never really knew him."

Sherlock turned to John and ran his hand over his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. But a loud thump from up stairs made the shorter boy aware of his surroundings and blushed furiously.

"Come on you need to sit down." He said, quickly changing the subject.

A huge oven took up most of the kitchen. It must have been used for the shops baking as well as the families judging by the size. Sherlock hobbled over to the kitchen table in the centre of the room and slumped down onto the nearest chair. He sighed with relief as the weight was taken from his leg. The whole room seemed to be coved in a thin layer of flour. It smelled sweet like home baked cakes, which was rather comforting. Sherlock smiled, the house suited John, it had a sense of caring and was obviously a happy home, even with such a huge lose, the family had continued.

"Sherlock dear, would you like a cup of tea?" Heather asked with a warm smile on her face. She hurried around the kitchen fetching mugs from one cupboard then tea bags from another.

"That would be lovely." He smiled.

John went over to help his mum, listening to her tell him about the shop while he has been away.

"Hey, John." A sandy haired girl came into the room, not looking up from her phone as she took a seat across the table from Sherlock.

"You're twins?" Sherlock asked, taking in the girl's appearance. She had the same nose and sandy blond hair but her eyes were sharper than John's and their mother's.

"Yes," The girl answered simply looking up at Sherlock as if it was the first time she had seen him sitting there. "I'm Harry."

"They look the same but really they could not be more different." Heather chuckled, placing a cup in front of the two sitting. John took a seat next to Sherlock, reaching for the sugar. He added four full spoons to his tea and smiled when he took a sip.

"John, all that sugar is not good for you." His mother scolded. She turned Sherlock, "My little boy always had a sweet tooth, when he was a little boy he used to take the jam out the fridge and take it up to his bedroom. I would always find the empty jar under his bed." She chuckled at the memory.

"Mum," John groaned. "Why do you have to tell every one that?"

"Yep, Hattie, Suzie, Lucy and Clare. They have all been told about John's jam addiction. But from everyone John could bring home to meet the family I never thought it would be a feller." Harry stirred her tea, a wicked smirk on her face as she watched John's face heat up.

"What? H-how did you-? It's not how it looks, I mean it's not like we're… err. Sherlock?" John babbled, looking to his companion for help.

But he was focused on his sister as she continued to smirk. He too was curious to how she had the worked out so quickly.

"Oh, come on! I read the letters to mum, the way you spoke about him mad it seemed like you were bloody obsessed. You're my brother; you can hide nothing from me! The whole time it sounded like you wanted to shag him."

"Harriet!" Heather chided "Language." She scowled at her daughter. "Now John," she now turned to her son, her face serious. "Tell me the truth. Is Sherlock here really… the object of your attraction?" Her tone was hard to read.

"He… er, well"

"Yes" Sherlock answered simply.

John kept his head down, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mum."

Heather snorted, which quickly changed to a full-blown laugh. "Sorry? There is nothing to be sorry about sweetie," She tried to stop her fit of giggles but was doing a poor job of it. "You have been worried about telling me haven't you? As long as you are happy John, be it with a girl or boy, I am happy as well." She cupped her son's cheek, making him face her. "All I want is for you to be happy, happy and safe. Now don't go doing any thing rash, you have your whole lives ahead of you, don't go rushing into things and when you do make sure you both know what you are doing. There are some nasty things out there and-"

"Mum, stop!" John blurted out, when he worked out what his mother was talking about.

Harriet tried stifled a laugh but she was finding it hard to hide how amusing all this was to her. John still mortified at how blunt his mother was being he stood up to go.

"Sherlock lets go and see the village." He mumbled, hurrying out the room.

The two boys walked slowly around the edge of the village football pitch. John matched his pace to Sherlock's, which was sluggish with him on crutches. Seeing that the dark haired teen was slightly out of breath, John gestured for them to take a seat on the stands. He knew that Sherlock would never admit to a weakness and would rather pass out with accusation than ask to sit down. He was stubborn. The young Holmes let out a relived sigh when the weight was taken off his wounded limb.

"Well it could have been worse," John stated, thinking back to a few minutes ago when they sat in his kitchen listening to his mother trying to give him the 'talk' in front of his sister and new boyfriend. "I seriously thought she was about to disown me!"

"I can tell you for certain that she never would. She is the type of woman who would stand by you to the end of the world."

"How do you know that?" John asked, a brow raised.

"She reminds me of you," Sherlock took the other boys hand, running the pad of his thumb across his palm. "You're loyal to the end, even if you sometimes don't want to be."

John smiled lovingly back but the moment was broken by the familiar tone from Sherlock's phone stating that he had a message.

Not letting go of his shorter companion's hand, he reached into his pocket to check the text.

"Well that's not right." Sherlock scowled, dropping John's hand and franticly typing a reply.

"Who is it?" the other asked.

"Mycroft," Sherlock kept his eyes locked on the screen until the tone sounded again. Sherlock scowl deepened. "He said there wasn't enough evidence to say that Moriarty is reasonable. Some how he talked his way out of it and got off completely free, not even a bad word to his name."

John gapped; horrified at the thought that, that psycho was still out there.

Sherlock let out a growl. "That's not it. In a couple of weeks, we need to go back to school with him."

**Authors Note-**

**I have had a busy month! Birthdays, holidays, back to school, exam results and a huge pile of homework to top it all off. And I know that this is a rubbish excuse and I probably deserve some extreme punishment. But hopefully that was worth the wait... I do like this chapter, I like John's Mum and the Village 'Great Barford' is real and where my Mum grew up. Another thanks to 'Suezanne' who gave me the wonderful idea of having Mummy Watson as a baker! I always pictured our John with a sweet tooth. So thank you all for your lovely reviews and adding this to your favourites, it makes my day! **

**SO FOR NOW MY DEARS GOOD DAY! **


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13

"Sherlock, will you sit down?" John sighed.

They had been back at Yard Academy for nearly a week and Sherlock was frustrated about not being any closer to getting Moriarty locked up. The second it was confirmed by Mycroft that Moriarty was free they had rushed back to Scotland with John's Mum in tow, demanding to know who was reasonable for the release. But their argument and Heather Watson's threat to pull John out of school fell on deaf ears.

"He must have talked his way out of it" Sherlock mumbled, more to himself than John. He continued to pace up and down the dorm room. His leg had healed well and though he still had a slight limp he had no more need for the crutch. "Or he could have someone on the inside! We have to get a background check on his family, we need to know who he has been in contact with." he whipped out his phone and started franticly typing away at the keys.

"Just drop it and come to bed," John pleaded. It was well past midnight and he was tired, there was a football match in the morning that he was set to play in and he needed his rest. Sherlock let out a sigh but joined John in the single bed. It was cramped but John didn't mind. The shorter would never admit it but the thought of sleeping alone with Moriarty somewhere in the same building terrified him. "You can probably get further tomorrow with a rested mind." John suggested.  
Sherlock snorted but slid under the covers of their bed staring up at the ceiling, wearing a calculating look that made it clear that he had no intention in sleeping.  
John shuffled towards the over boy and rested his head on his shoulder enjoying the slight warmth felt through their clothing. "You'll get him Sherlock," he mumbled, his eyes drooping shut. "You all ways do."

The dark haired teen ran his slender hand along his sleeping boyfriends jaw. He scowled into the dark room ahead of him. He wanted the school to be safe, safe for John. It broke his heart to imagine him in any more danger and with Moriarty free to run amuck around the school, any one could be in trouble.

* * *

When John woke up he was alone. The first time he had woken up by himself a few days ago he had panicked, sure that Moriarty had Sherlock. He had searched the school until he found out that his unpredictable friend was out 'investigating' again. John was used to being alone now but it didn't help with how hurt he felt to be left. Sherlock devoted himself to finding a way to catch up with Moriarty, but every time he seemed to get close to an answer it slipped away. A piece of evidence would go missing or a bystander would suddenly change their mind about what they claimed to see. John had not seen Sarah, who was their main witness, since the fire weeks before. Some said she dropped out of school while others said she was dealing with family problems. She wouldn't answer John's calls and never turned up to the court hearing where she would have given her statement. It was as if she had vanished off the face of the earth. With her gone as well, John could not help but feel almost abandoned.

The canteen was loud and busy with everyone excited about the match. Soon the opposition from a nearby school would arrive and spirits were high as people gossiped about the two teams. John sat picking at his breakfast, this wasn't his first game for the school but since the fire John had been on edge and was unable to focus, always watching his back, weary of every corner he turned. The team chattered about strategies and positions but it all went over John's head.

"Hey Johnny," Henry, the team's captain called form across the table. "What's up? You seem down." Henry was a year above John and stood about three heads taller. On the pitch he was someone you wouldn't want to face. His broad frame and hard-set jaw gave him the image of someone quite menacing. But away from the game, if you had chance to get to know him you would quickly know that his image did not reflect the person. He was someone you could trust and was loyal to his team to no end. For this they all adored him and many looked up to him.

"Still missing Sarah?" Anderson snorted, "Must have found someone better." The boy sneered. A few murmured laughs were heard around the table. No one knew of John and Sherlock's relationship. It was John who suggested that they keep it quite, at least until Moriarty was out the way.

"Shove off, rodent," Henry scolded, getting more laughs from fellow teammates. "She's on her holidays aint she?"

"Something like that." he murmured. Henry thumped him on the back in an attempt to comfort him but just resulted in knocking the all air out of John.

"Don't worry mate," Henry smiled. "Don't let what rat boy said get to you."

John gave him a slight smile of reassurance but he was far from okay. If only they knew what was really troubling him.

* * *

It was good to be back on the field. Even though he was covered in mud and exhausted from running around the pitch, John was on top of the world. The sun shone high up in the sky, though the field was water logged from heavy rain in the night. A large crowed of students as well as teachers stood around the pitch calling to players, shouting and cheering as goals were missed as well as scored. Everything seemed to gleam as the light hit it; even the birds seemed to have come out of hiding as they swooped between the school buildings and the trees which had just started shedding their leaves for winter. Sprits were high in the team as they wove the ball between the opposing players. He took a deep breath and charged after the ball, letting his mind be filled with the game rather than the problem that was Moriarty. Grinning at Henry as he successfully passed him the ball he watched as their third goal was scored. Almost a second later the whistle was blow ending the game and confirming their win. John continued to allow the foolish grin cover his face as he shook hands with the opposition. Henry fondly clapped a hand on his back

"Well done mate, you played well today." This was good, to feel like a normal teenager again, with no fires or vicious attempts to kill him. John bathed in the calm and wished that it could continue forever. But the charred remains of buildings still lay in sight. The only evidence left behind from the fires. Their structure warped and singed black, a constant reminder of what had happened few weeks before hand. It was almost as if they were watching; looming in the distance, reminding everyone of what had happened. But with the crowed cheering in his ears and the sun continuing to shine, John let himself forget, for now.

* * *

The other side of school was a different story. Sherlock tore at pieces of paper, circling sections that could be of use and rapidly jotting down notes before they left his head. The shared dorm room looked like a bomb had hit it. Drawers of paper were emptied onto both beds and newspaper articles littered the floor. Pictures from security footage were pinned onto walls as well as scraps of so called evidence that Sherlock had collected. He was in a trance, thoughts running through his mind at one hundred miles an hour as he used all this wit to get closer to an answer. And he loved it. The thrill of working his way through a mystery, challenging his mind and body by operating constantly, with no break for sleep or meals. It was unlike any schoolwork he was given which was so easy it was almost an insult to him. This was different, it was like a drug; it was his oxygen, he needed it to survive.

"We won!" John called, dumping his sports kit by the door.

The trance was broken. He could feel thoughts escaping his mind, the interruption instantly disturbing the course of complex theories rushing through his brain. Sherlock groaned, slapping his palm against his temple repeatedly in an attempt to get them back; he was so close.

"What's up?" John questioned after seeing his roommates reaction, "You support the other team or something?" he grinned, not knowing of the irritation he had caused.

"Shut up." The tall teen ordered, continuing his pacing, his steps clearing a way between piles of paper covering the floor. John scowled slightly, shuffling forwards, trying not to disturb a treacherous heap or road maps that threatened to fall at any moment.

"Can I help with anything?" he took a piece of paper pinned to the wall. It was as if it was in code, Sherlock's writing being impossible to work out and his slanted handwriting making it more difficult to decipher.

"No I'm fine," The taller boy snapped, snatching the scrap of paper from John's hands. "It's not like you would understand any way."

"What do you mean not understand?"

"I doubt that you would be able to grasp what I'm trying to do John. Just go back to playing with a ball or something; you would just get in the way."

"What so you're saying I'm thick?" John demanded.

"No, you are perfectly competent. Just not up to my standards." He sighed; Sherlock really didn't have time for this. He needed to some how trip up Moriarty, find a lose end and follow it. He needed to make the school safe for John, so they could be together in peace.

"Well if I'm such an idiot then why the hell are you going out with me? Is it some sort of new game for you? Make the new kid look like a fool?"

"Come on now you're just being daft!" Sherlock muttered, stopping to face John. "I have more important things than this to do John."

"Yeah sure you have. Come on stop playing mystery with Moriarty and forget all this. Let someone else sort it out, there is a police force working on the case. This isn't good for you, you haven't slept in days!"

"No one else can sort it out, only me! Those so called police officers are a bunch of imbeciles. I'm the only one with the mind to work out how to catch him. Only I know who Jim Moriarty really is!"

"Then why don't you just go and date him you arrogant prick!" John snapped, grabbing his kit bag, he stormed out the room. Leaving a drained looking Sherlock behind him. The young Holmes sighed, slumping down onto his armchair, crumpling a pile of magazine cuttings. Taking out another cigarette from his shirt pocket he went on to fill the room with a cloud of dirty grey smoke. He looked across the muddle paper covering every surface. Without John it all seemed worthless. But if he was dating the boy or not he still wanted him safe. Standing up again he reached for the nearest piece of paper.

"Let's get back to work shall we?"

**Authors Note-**

**HAPPY CHRISTMAS!**

I know, I know it has been a while and I really don't have any other excuse apart from being REALLY busy! I have had mock exams, piles of art course work (which never seems to be going right), I went to Berlin in October as well as Comi-Con in London. Then my December was spent Christmas shopping. But now that is all over (apart from art; thats still going wrong :/) I think i will have more time to get this done! There are only 2 more chapters left and I am looking forward to writing them! And who else is excited about the new series out soon? I know I have anoyed the hell out of my family by talking about it almost constantly!

**Again thank you for all your lovely reviews and for putting up with my late updates! So I hope you all have a wonderful and successful new year! So for now my dears GOOD NIGHT!**

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